Shizuo docx
by AcornWarrior
Summary: Izaya here. I've decided that keeping a journal about my confrontations and thoughts of Shizu-chan would help bring some clarity to my life. And I decided to post it because––aren't you lucky––I'm in the mood to share.  Yes we have sex. Perverts.
1. ENTRY 1

ENTRY ONE

I love humans. I don't hide that. They interest me. That's no secret. They're as fun to watch and predict as they are because there seems to be such a pattern, and then they'll do something to completely defy it! Suddenly change their entire character in a way you can't possibly have seen coming. And these outliers are normal, which makes them even more intriguing.

And all the mental processes of humans fall into several different archetypes. A simple Google (or Bing, whichever you prefer) search could give you detailed descriptions of all of them, so I'm not going to bore you with most of them here. But there is one I'm going to mention. The one I hate the most, the absolute most.

There's a type of person in this world who has a kind of…perverted sense of morals, and a temper that they just can't control. They'll lash out at anyone who angers them, but they're usually hypocritical enough to say that they can't stand violence. But violence is what they are. Their nature is simply violent, and instead of embracing it they feel the need to create a moral system that lines up, more or less, with it. To justify it. To justify something that doesn't need to be justified-just accepted or changed.

This is the type of person that I hate; the type of person Heiwajima Shizuo is.

I don't even really bother trying to manipulate him at this point. Not directly, nor through other people. He expects it now, after so many years of it. Hahahaha. And I have to admit that playing his hatred for me is just fun. But framing him for crimes stopped being fun after it became routine and he stopped reacting to it as strongly, and attacking his person can be dangerous for me, so when I do that I do it only for very short periods of time. My relationship with him is a little different from my relationships with other humans. With them, I don't have to get too creative. I'm satisfied putting them in relatively similar situations again and again, because they'll react differently to them and it's fun to predict. But with Shizuo…my tactics evolve. I can only be satisfied with one thing for such an amount of time before I have to tighten the belt, so to speak. Push him further. It's probably because he's the only one I'm personally invested in.

Despite my creativity, though, I started running out of new things to do. Whenever I would brainstorm, my mind would always go to the same idea. I rejected it at first, wondering for a little while why I had come up with it in the first place, but I expected it to just go away. When it didn't, and I couldn't really think of anything else, I took some exploratory action.

"Shizuo! Miss me?"

He turned and growled at me, biting down hard on his cigarette before he charged. "Izaya! How many times do I have to tell you to stay out of Ikebukuro?" I flicked my knife out and darted around him, managing to take off the butt of his cigarette. I laughed as he swore and swung his fist at me. The momentum carried him around, and so I pushed up against his front, my hand grabbing his crotch, my face momentarily pressed nose-to-nose with his. I blew a puff of air at him and then pushed up harder, my hand shifting to the bottom of his pelvic bone and flipping him. I winked and ran off as he attempted to regain his balance, which was harder than usual because of his shock.

Later I reflected. Was I sexually interested in Shizuo? Maybe. I'd never ruled out guys as partners. But I hated —hate— Shizuo. I enjoyed being around him because I found amusement in making him suffer. That shouldn't equate to attraction. But that conclusion didn't support my desires and actions.

There had always been something undeniably sexual about my interactions with my victims. My occasional post session hard-on left no doubt about that. I didn't say I was "in love" with humans for the drama of the statement. I really am. I get that feeling in the pit of my stomach, that tight, hot, wonderful feeling whenever I think about them, or talk about them, or manipulate them, or do ANYTHING to them! And there is no denying that my relationship with Shizuo is the most intense I've ever had with another human.

So I played with the idea of his being different to me than everybody else leaving him a viable option as a sexual partner to my subconscious. And I saw some truth in that. Regardless of the _nature_ of my emotions, I did feel stronger for him than I did for anyone else. My body might have taken that and directed its sexual energy at it.

But ultimately I decided not to spend time analyzing myself. For reasons that might eventually unfurl by themselves, I now found amusement in taking that extra inch and molesting Heiwajima Shizuo.


	2. ENTRY 2

ENTRY TWO

And so what was I supposed to do but indulge myself?

I paid someone to set up cameras in and looking into his house, and I watched him. I really made quite the stalker! It was rare that I saw him as calm as he was here. He was very normal. Drank a lot of milk, watched a decent amount of TV. Like all things with him, it got boring fast. So I waited for him to go out to work, and then I hired a thief to go into his house and take something out. Nothing too noticeable, just things that he easily could have lost on his own. A spoon and a knife, but leave the matching fork. Or take one of his chopsticks, but leave its sister. Take his tie this time. A sock. Never two.

It took him an annoyingly long time to realize that something else was going on, but once he did, things got fun fast. The first thing he did was reorganize his entire house. I was surprised he didn't take inventory of his items, the way he was rushing around yelling to himself. My cameras didn't have audio, so I couldn't hear him as he stomped with arms flailing, nor hear him curse as he slammed the closet door too angrily and broke the mirror hanging on it. I could only see him on mute, like in a movie before the invention of synthetic sound, and fill the silence with my laughter.

I wanted to have more fun with him before (and if) he took the step of getting security cameras placed in his house, so I started having my thief-turned-monkey man rearranging things. Take his spoons and put them where his knives are, and vice versa. Do his dishes (there was some protesting at this, but Shizuo's reaction when he came home made it more than worth dealing with that).

Then I started replacing some of Shizuo's things. And they got progressively larger. It started off with his bartender uniforms (I replaced one of them with a blue one in the same style), and after awhile he had a new couch.

He had tried many times to catch the person who was doing it. He staked out his own house after "leaving for work", or he called someone and asked them to notice whether or not someone was going in when he was gone. But because of my cameras (and lip-reading skills, to a point), I was able to avoid ever being caught. I would simply wait until he gave up, which several times was a long wait of several months, and then go back to my pranks.

During this I was escalating my own attacks on him. I manipulated our fights several times in order to pull the same move I had the first time, and I often would brush against his ass as I slid around behind him. It infuriated him more than anything else I had ever done because it confused him as _well_ as angered him. For the first of many times, I called him "Shizu-chan" in a feminine sing-song voice whenever I greeted him. Usually he just glared at me, but occasionally he'd play along, smiling at me and saying "Good morning, Izaya-kun" before finishing his routine attack, most likely in a failed attempt to show how it didn't affect him and make me lose interest in it.


	3. ENTRY 3

ENTRY THREE

The day I kissed him, I left a note in his room. I had already seen him yelling my name when he discovered something else missing, but he never ended up putting the video cameras up, probably because it would upset him to lose like that. (If he had put the cameras up, I would have just disconnected the circuits or played a loop anyway. He also could have figured that out and spared himself the time and money.)

The note read _Hallo, Shizu-chan. Did you enjoy our time together today as much as I did? XOXO._

He ripped it into pieces and punched his bed, sending feathers everywhere. He punched his wall when he realized that the pieces of my note and the pieces of his bed blended together, and he was forced to vacuum it before he went to sleep. I watched him as he lay down for bed, something I had done very rarely in the past. The innocent look on his face when he was sleeping was unsurprising, but interesting. I couldn't tell from here if he was in REM sleep or not, but I hoped he dreamed of me.

The day after that I was following him. He went into a deserted alleyway, littered with a dumpster that hardly ever gets dumped and a few old boxes. He sat down on one of them and stayed still. Waited. I realized, of course, that he was waiting for me, but I decided it would take me half of an hour to get down there. "Shizu-chan, what brings you here?" I finally greeted.

"You need to stop." His voice was sharp. He was impatient.

"Hmm? Stop what?" I leaned back against the wall opposing him, propping my left foot against the wall under my ass.

His face tightened up. "You know exactly what I'm talking about, asshole."

"Well be more specific, then. I do a lot to you. If you're restraining yourself from trying to kill me just to talk to me though, it must really be bugging you." My smile pissed him off more, and he picked up one of the boxes sitting around him and threw it at my head. I ducked, and the powdered ruins of the box sprinkled down on me. I came up with a wonderful retort about fairy dust, but I was too interested in what he was going to say to say it aloud.

Standing up, he yelled "All of it! Stop the sexual harassment! Stop fucking with my house!"

I shrugged. "I don't want to." He charged at me, but the way he was positioning his arms, I knew he wasn't going to punch me, so I didn't move. His hands hit right next to my head on both sides, making crumbling indentations. At this point, Shizuo should have been nearly at his last straw. This had been going on for nearly seven months, and he had only grown angrier. When upping his level of violence didn't stop anything, even encouraged me, he realized would have to try a different approach. He saw me as someone who like being in control all of the time. He knew that I would hate being taken off guard and that I would hate my methods being mimicked, improved, and used against me. If he didn't underestimate me as much as he did, what he did actually might have really bothered me. But as it was, I saw it coming. He tilted his head ever so slightly and smashed our lips together. I took my propped left foot and wrapped it around his waist to pull us together. For a second his body responded: his lips opened unconsciously against my mouth, pressing softly. Then he recoiled, pushing away from me with a yell of "Fucking fag!" I ran towards him and grabbed his dick, finding it ever-so-slightly hard. Knowing that his nearing-on-desperate methods had failed, he swung his arm around to strike me, but I had already gone off running, hand in the air in farewell.

He didn't bother following me, worried that another encounter would end in much the same way, so I rushed up to the roof above the alleyway. From the rooftop of the building, I was able to see him clearly. He stayed for only a few more seconds before he punched the wall again and went off. I smirked.

His mind would naturally return to the kiss again and again, of course. Even if he hated that it was true, he had at enjoyed it. There had been a spark for both of us. And because of that, if he didn't already like men (I've never seen or heard of him being with men or women, so I really don't know), he's going to start doubting his sexuality. He will question whether tactical anger was the real reason behind the kissing. And when he masturbates, even if he dismisses it quickly with pornography, he's going to think of our scene in the alleyway. Thoughts of me are going to permeate his internal sex life.


	4. ENTRY 4

ENTRY FOUR

I was right, of course. Haha! It made me so happy to have him figured out like I did. I watched in his room, pulling out his penis and starting to massage it, pump it, thrust it against his hand. And then, almost always, he would stop. Frustrated. Turn to porn to get his mind off of me.

During this time he'd only see me occasionally. This was a delicate stage. Overexposure could ruin everything. He had to create a me that didn't exist; use my forwardness, twist it to the needs of his sexuality. So maybe once a week he'd see me eating in the same restaurant as him. Once a month I'd cause a problem for him at work. But it took him a very long time (and oh so many overturned restaurant tables) before he stopped fighting blindly against his confusion.

One day he sat down in his room with an expression of such determined thoughtfulness that I was concerned. What if he hurt himself, thinking so hard? But my concern was actually justified. This was the point where I lacked the influence I had had up until now.

But I had a theory. He hates violence. He is violent. There must be some part of him that is angry at himself. That _hates_ himself. And self-hatred is a thing that leads to self-harm, or at least the subconscious longing for it. If he was masochistic, it would follow that there was a part of him that was attracted to my obvious and frequently expressed sadism. I've never really _seen_ him display any of that, but I think that somewhere it might exist. If it does, I'll find it.

Ahh, why hadn't I done this earlier? It's so much fun! I spun around in the chair in front of my office computer where I watched him on the little screens.

But then the door to my office slammed open. I moved my foot immediately toward a hidden pedal on the ground. When I pressed it, it set my screen to a pre-set configuration of programs. Celty's tentacles (as I like to refer to them when she can't hear me) flew across my office and coiled themselves about my torso and neck, pinning down my arms, which had begun to creep up in a casual "So-happy-to-see-you" motion. I had been wondering why it was taking her so long to approach me about this. "Ahh, Celty-san, what brings you over to my side of town? Is there something you want to talk about? Problems with Shinra, perhaps? I'm great with relationships if you want advice."

Her PDA already had a message clacked into it, and she shoved it out in front of her. "Why are you doing this to Shizuo? I've never seen him like this. What was wrong with your relationship before? It wasn't actually dangerous, but this is! I don't know what he might do if you keep pushing him."

I laughed. She was thinking that he might kill me. Like he could. "Celty-san, he's been trying to kill me for years. There's nothing he can do to me that he hasn't already tried."

Clack clack clack. "I'm still worried. Why can't you go back to what you were doing before?"

I shrugged the best I could without her soul-thorns scratching me. "It's not as fun."

"What's your goal?"

"Hmm…what _is_ my goal? I don't know. Haven't really figured it out yet." Lie. I want him in my bed. Strapped down in my bed. Fucking him in my bed. Or his. I'm flexible.

She tightened her tentacles and walked across the room, slamming her hands down on the desk.

"Are you planning on releasing me, or are we going to have some bondage play?" Wink wink.

Her smoky (soul, possibly) tentacles drew back into her immediately. "You're horrible," she wrote.

"Haha, what can I possibly say to that, Celty-san?"

Celty stormed out of my office. When the door shut my smile twisted.

I suddenly felt like tormenting Shizuo. I shut down my computer and slid out. I called a local gang and told them that Shizuo was leaking information about where their hideout was.

"Haaahhh? I don't believe you, Mr. Anonymous caller," the gang leader responded with a greasy sneering tone. "You're probably just using me to get us to do your dirty work for you."

"Whaat? No, no! Of course not." I told them the location of their hideout, which I had actually discovered myself nearly a month ago. "I would never dream of telling anybody your hideout, of course, you have my word, but Heiwajima…well, I learned it from eavesdropping on him, after all. Just thought you might want to know." I hung up.

It didn't take long for me to find Shizuo. He had just gotten off of work for the day and he was talking with Simon when the gang approached him. "Stop being ridiculous," he was telling them. "I have no idea where your base is." Simon walked back inside, hand to his head in resigned distress.

"Of course you do! We heard it from a reliable source!" The leader, a grungy looking man, yelled.

Shizuo stopped, and his eyes narrowed dangerously. I could almost hear the snap of his central nervous system as he remembered that two and two almost always made four-in-base-ten. "Did he give you his name?"

"Didn't need it! He knew the location." His mouth was grotesquely swollen, floppy, kind of a stale sausage color.

Shizu-chan immediately looked around for me. I brought my head back into the alleyway I was watching him from. I'd show myself eventually.

When he didn't see me, he continued, growing angrier and angrier, his voice starting to make its warning crunching sounds. "Well did you ever think that maybe this man was just getting you to do his dirty work for him? Maybe he was just the one that knew your hideout, and framed me."

"And that's what he said you'd say. Get 'im boys!" The gang charged, and of course they stood no chance now that they'd give him an excuse to be violent that fit inside his "moral code." He picked up a mailbox from the ground and swung it around with a yell, sending half of them flying. The other half he took care of with punches and kicks. His bow-tie became crooked. Something to focus our meeting around. I waited until the rest of the goons were running off, clutching their broken limbs and torn clothes. I waved cheerily at the leader, who either didn't see me or chose to ignore me.

Poking out my head, I made eye contact with Shizuo. He was already looking my way when I did, so I guessed he actually _had_ seen me before I pulled my head back. The wind ruffling my jacket just the littlest bit, I put my hands casually into its pockets and stepped all the way out, spreading my arms invitingly. "Shizu-chan~."

He swung his head around at me. "Izaya," came the hiss.

"Were those mean guys picking on you?"

He walked towards me.

"They were, weren't they? Want me to beat them up for you? Oh, well I guess you took care of that."

He didn't say a word, just kept walking towards me, clenching and un-clenching his fists.

"I could do it again, I guess. Or have some people take them out. What were they pissing about, anyway? Did you molest one of their boyfriends?"

Twenty feet away. I tensed, ready to fight or to run. Or fight while running. Or all three.

"You did, didn't you." Sigh. Head shake, my voice coming a little faster now with the adrenaline. "I thought I warned you about molesting men in dark places."

Ten. Everyone else on the street had dissipated after the fight (and Simon had gone in _during_ the fight). My words were the only noises other than some traffic a few blocks away.

I stared at him.

Five.

He stared at me.

One.  
He stopped, eyes just a twinge maniacal, arms shaking from the urge to punch me.

"You know what I want," I told him, almost surprised when I realized that I could see in his eyes that he did.

"This isn't about you hating me, is it?" he asked like he knew, cracking his neck and then his knuckles.

"Have you been thinking about me a lot, Shizu-chan? I'm flattered."

I jumped over his leg-swing and was hit by a punch. Flying back onto the concrete, I ignored the throbbing and jumped back up, ran at him, took out my knife and slashed. He dodged, tried to hit the back of my head. I moved faster, running around behind him. He turned to face me, but I ran around at the same time, staying at his back. He growled and readied a punch, throwing it where I would be as I moved around to get to his back again. I jumped backward instead, grabbing his fist and flipping him over me, carefully keeping the blade on its side so it didn't actually cut him. We went back and forth like this for eight minutes. I was tired. He was panting. But the intensity he was bringing to the fight signaled that this wasn't a fight to him. It was something more. Something else. Communication. What was he communicating? Shizuo reached out and grabbed my jacket. "I hated you the second I saw you on that bike rack. We've hated each other for years. Then you changed the medium. I asked myself why you did that. Why would you change how you expressed your feelings? It's because your own feelings changed, right? You don't hate me anymore, right?" Oh. Guess that was what he was communicating.

I grabbed his bow-tie, straightened it for him, then took it in my hand. "Of course I do. How stupid. You're my least favorite type of person. And that's assuming you qualify as a human, which I still haven't actually decided either way on." We pulled each other harder, got closer. The intensity of the emotions; hatred, confusion, lust, were as attractive as they were repulsive. We were like dancing magnets, negatively charged and being pushed towards each other. I loved how much he hated me. I loved how much I hated him, and how I had to change how I expressed that because I needed it to stay fresh and satisfying; how he made me evolve. The dynamics of our relationship were complex, interesting, unpredictable. It didn't matter how much I hated him as a person because I loved how we interacted. I wanted to take that interaction and push it to its limits. So I tugged his bow-tie even closer and kissed him. He pushed back, his teeth pressing against mine through both of our lips.

His hand went to my back and pulled me sharply closer in an instinctive pull filled with desire. My back bent slightly to fit against him, but then my leg swung around and tripped him. He fell on the ground and I hovered over him, pulse racing. I could see the hard-on in his jeans. I actually hadn't expected him to initiate contact. I hadn't expected him to have come to a decision like this when he thought about it. I thought he would attempt to think, and come to a vague, abstract conclusion that would satisfy him but ultimately do nothing. This was surprising. It actually didn't make much sense to me at first. Was it a trap? Does this have the same motivation it did in the alley? Was this honest lust? "Is your theory that I don't hate you anything more than a projection, Shizu-chan? Have your own feelings changed?"

I watched his reaction. His eyes filled with a flicker of…something. "Of course they haven't." He drove his knee up into my crotch, and I fell off of him, seeing red and hugging my knees to my chest. He stood back up.

His words were defensive in a different way. There wasn't shock like there had been in the alley. There was rejection out of fear that I had seen something, even though I knew what I asked him wasn't true. I blinked the tears out of my eyes and made myself stand up again. "Ahh...Shizu-chan, why would you do that? Did you just want to touch it? All you had to do-" I barely dodged a punch to my face. "-was ask." I winked at him, even while I continued to grimace in pain.

"Izaya...asshole..." He smirked and cracked his neck again, pulling out a cigarette, lighting it, sucking in. "I'm going to beat the crap out of you for that," He blew the words into my face, the smoke getting stuck in my hair, mouth and stinging my eyes.

He didn't manage to, but he tried.


	5. ENTRY 5

ENTRY FIVE

From there it progressed quickly. We fought often, but there was a new sensual element to all of our physical contact. We weren't trying to kill each other as much as we were trying to force each other into submission. He joined me in smiling during the interactions more often now, and because it appeared to all but the most intuitively observant that we were back to normal, my relationship with Celty also went back to its normal state of flattery and friendship. The violence only became more and more playful as it went on, since I had stopped fueling the hatred behind it, and it was now running on fumes. Now that the difficult part of the relationship was over, I spent more time doing my normal jobs, which I had been neglecting as of late.

I found I had missed it, and felt my obsession with Shizuo smearing around the edges until it had melted into a puddle-but only a puddle-of desire.

I had my monkey-man take down the cameras he had put up, and then released him from service, making sure he would never reveal to anyone the jobs I had him perform. Stains don't talk.

One day Shizuo surprised me by visiting me at my office.

"Shizuo," I greeted.

"Yo, Izaya." He sat down on the couch.

I pushed off from behind my computer and propped my feet up on my desk. "What brings you over here?"

"Nothing better to do."

"Well I just finished up working. Wanna do something?"

He stood up. "Let's go to my place. I'm sure you set up cameras or something, so it's not like there's anything special about you entering."

"Shizu-chan, hahaha, of course not! I would never do that." I grabbed my coat and thrust my arms through it, pulling it out to the sides with my hands and bowing in a way that was a bit effeminate.

He obviously didn't believe me, but he wasn't angry. Perhaps he had accepted it as part of my personality, and was willing to overlook it in the sake of steering away from violence. That would be a very Shizu-chan thing to do. We walked out the door and headed out to his car. I got into the back and he drove us to his house. Seeing it on camera didn't do its...essence justice. I'm not sure how else to put it. It smelled like him: rice with soy sauce and cigarettes. It had a very traditionally Japanese-style atmosphere: calm and quiet. I couldn't imagine anyone getting angry in here. "Are you a practicer of Feng Shui?" I asked.

"You can tell?"

I nodded. "You're good at it."

"Thanks..."

"Course." I took off my coat and threw it onto the coach nearby, and then threw myself onto it, arms crossed under my head. "So what do you do for fun, Shizu-chan?"

He seemed to think about it for a minute. "I'll hang around Selty, go out to a bar, get sushi...visit Simon..."

"So not much?"

"Che. It's enough to keep me content. If it's so terrible, what do _you_ do?" He got a glass of milk from the refrigerator and sat down on the chair that was sitting across from the couch. There was a table in between them, and he sat his milk down on that after taking a few gulps.

"Hmm...Seek you out, chat online, work, play around with people."

He raised an eyebrow. "You play around a lot?"

I blinked a few times before kicking my shoes off, sending them flying across the room. "Hahaha, I didn't mean it like that. I'm not easy…Are you?"

"Easy?" He gave a short laugh. "I don't think you could really say that."

"Oh yes, I'm sure you're still a virgin," I teased.

Silence. Then flustered silence. _Oh God, you're kidding me_, I thought. Ahahaha. It was amazing! No wonder he reacted so strongly to being touched, and then had gotten so caught up in his lust! The slight confusion that had existed before evaporated-I felt the click of the cardboard as it fit perfectly into the puzzle. "Of course I'm not," he spat out a few seconds later.

But the words were too shiny. They had spent too much time being polished to be real. "You are! Hahaha. That's hilarious! Why are you? Could it be that you couldn't find someone who was interested?"

"Of course there are people who were interested," he defended sharply, offended. "I've gotten plenty of offers, _I_ was just never interested. Too busy with my job."

"Would you be able to control your strength during orgasm?" I asked.

Silence. "Probably."

"Can you while you're masturbating?"  
"Of course. But it's different." _Isn't it?_ his voice asked. He was becoming easier to read than expected. It was verging on intuitive. I hoped it didn't get boring.  
"Yes, it's different. Stronger. You're less in control. But that makes it better, too, of course. You'd enjoy it." I peeled off one of my socks and threw it in the direction of my shoes.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?" I threw the other one.

"Throwing your clothes like that. Undressing. It's rude. And you should have taken your shoes off as soon as you came in. Did you never learn manners?" He crossed his arms and tapped his finger, annoyed.

I shrugged. "Didn't think you'd mind if I started undressing."

"Well I do." I smirked. He picked up his milk again and drank the rest of it, then got up and put it in his sink to deal with later.

"You have food?" I called after him. "We could eat and watch a movie, if there's nothing else to do."

"Uh...yeah." I heard the refrigerator open, though he had moved into part of the kitchen I couldn't see from where I was lying. "We have rice, lasagna, gyoza, store-sushi..."

"Tuna?"

"Yeah, there's some tuna. It's a mixed plate."

"Bring it over, Shizu-chan!" I love tuna. I didn't want to say no to my favorite dish. But I had no intention of eating it. This small talk had been a waste of time. I had hoped it would become something, but all that it offered me was the information on Shizuo's virginity, which only interested me as far as the puzzling of his actions went. When he walked across the room, his pants clung to the front of his legs as he pushed them forward. He was walking too deliberately; I was able to read how nervous he was. He knew I was getting bored, and so he knew what was coming. I wasn't going to surprise him. But that was fine, since in a way he had initiated it by inviting me over. He probably wanted it.

I didn't wait long after he put the sushi on the table. All I had to do was look at him with a little half smile and my head slightly tilted to the right, and he paused. Then he walked over to me. I took him by his bowtie and dragged him down to my level.  
He stood there awkwardly for a moment, as our lips touched softly and neither of us felt much, but then his arms spread out and pushed down on the cushion on either side of my head, the beginnings of passion. I took my hand and wrapped it around his white cloth waist, pulling it towards me, an invitation to lie on top. We brought our mouths apart and then brought them back together, and again, and again, faster and faster, our heads and tongues thrusting as heat flowered, petal by delicious petal, in our groins. My hand went to the back of his neck and I slithered up so I was sitting against the armrest of his couch. Our erections rubbed longingly through our pants. "Should we move to the bed?" Oh God, my voice was already raspy.

He pushed against me before panting out "Probably." I followed him down the hallway and pushed him onto his duvet when we were close enough. Straddling him now, I peeled his vest off and unbuttoned his shirt, letting my hands take his shoulders and follow the curvature of his arms, feeling the muscles and grooves, already dampening with pleasured sweat. I followed his skin sideways, dipping my tongue in the angles of his pelvic bone, leaning sideways so my lips could clasp his nipple. When I rolled my tongue, he released a small moan. When I bit down, his body spasmed.

I let myself go a little more, getting situated with his body. My mouth crawled back to his, tongues twining, exploring, teeth biting his tongue, drawing a little bit of blood. He winced and cursed, but shivered as my nails slid down his torso, crawling into his pants. He flipped us over, thrusting himself against my palm. I curved my hand around him the best I could, given the constraints of his belted pants, trying to give him more to push against as I slid my fingers up and down along him. My erection was tenting painfully, begging for attention, so after his movements started becoming erratic I stopped him, taking one of the hands that held him up over me and guiding it to my belt buckle. He paused and sat up, hands trembling slightly as they fumbled for a minute to get the button, but then he drew my pants down my legs, letting the backs of his fingers trace the sensitive inside of my thighs and knees, and I kicked the pants the rest of the way off, hearing them fall heavily to the ground at the end of his bed. I undid his too, and when they and our boxers were in a pile on the floor, we were rolling around in his bed with naught but shirts that were falling off.  
"Shizu-chan," I teased, on top of him again, tracing his collar bone with my fingernail, and leaving little white streaks. "What do you want?"

He brought my hand back to his crotch, so I grabbed it and stroked it, bringing my head back down to his chest at the same time, nibbling at his nipple again. "Uhn...gh..." he panted. "Iz...Izaya..."

I could see the pleasure gleaming from his face. "Say my name again, Shizu-chan. Say my name louder or I'll stop."

He latched his leg around my knee and flipped us over, grabbing my hands and pinning them above my head in protest. "Like hell."

I grinned. "Oh no. What are you doing now?"

I could feel the skin of his leg against mine, and it felt so real and so solid that it made my cock stand up a little taller. His erection was dripping onto me and then dripping down onto the bed, spreading into small dark circles. "I should have known you would talk a lot during sex. You can't seem to ever stop talking," he whispered.

I groaned. "Stop saying such dramatic things when we're in bed, Shizu-chan." I teased, smoldering my eyes. "You always get too emotional, no matter what it is you're doing."  
He made a "che" sound and dismissively brought his hand to my dick, playing the tip with little circles, moving down the shaft, pumping me. My breathing got harder, faster. I wanted to see his face clench. My balls started to tighten. "Uhh! Nnnn...Shizu…Shizuo…chan..." I tried to move my hands, but his strength wouldn't let me. It hurt to try. His hand was still pumping. Faster now. I bit the inside of my cheek and tasted salt and copper. I pushed myself against his hand, more shaking than thrusting, out of control. I came with a short yell.

I opened my eyes to find that he had been watching my every movement, my every thought, and I saw a glint of something that transcended lust in his eyes. "We never got around to taking my shirt off," I said, before he could notice what I had seen.

"Yeah. It's fine, we'll wash it." He dismounted me and we took it off, making sure to turn it inside out before throwing it on the ground.

Shizuo's eight and a half inches became impossible to ignore as I got back on the bed. It was arrogant. I couldn't think of another word to describe something that sat there so confidently. I saw him against the bed for a second; face contorted, wrists strapped to bed posts. Beautiful. Keeping the image in my mind, I pounced on him, crashing his shoulders into the comforter beneath us, then smothering him in nibbles, making him shake, making him weep. I blew on the liquid that was trickling from his cock, and then watched his face as I lowered my mouth onto it, making sure I didn't touch it yet, letting only the moisture and warmth of my breath caress it. I imagined I smelled black leather. He squirmed. I lifted my head back up and tilted it to the right, "No STDs I should know about?"

He glared at me. "I should be the one asking you. You're the slut here."

"Oh...how mean to call someone a slut when you're having sex with them! What if I want to stop now?"

He laughed. "You won't."

I joined him in soft laughter, tempted to stop just to spite him, but was pushed on by my own throbbing groin. I moved my head back where he wanted it. His hips bucked up, and I had to hold them down with my hands. Then I licked him until he moaned, blew cold breath on him. Licking again, teasing his tip, and then pulling back. He was going wild, frustrated, turned on past rational thought. So he looked at me, and I smiled back, and he told me, his voice raspy, his blond hair mussed, to "finish" him. Placing his cock in my mouth, I licked and I sucked, and I brought one of my hands to his balls and played with them, and I kept going until he came, when I moved my head and let the cum spray out over me.

Hard again, I put myself down on top of him and kissed his cheekbone, kissed his jugular, licked his collar bone, bit his collar bone, sucked on his collar bone until it was raw and little speckles of blood came to the top of his skin. His chest pushed toward my mouth and he flipped me over, pulled me up, pinning my hands to the wall, resting my ass on his pillow. "Is this the part where we take it further?" he asked.

"That's up to you, isn't it, Shizuo-kun?" I told him with a straight face that I was going to let him decide. And it was in that way that _I_ decided.

"Feel like taking a shower?" Shizuo took me by my hand and sped out of his room, down the hallway, into the bathroom. He took off the shirt that was still clinging resolutely on his shoulders, turned the hot water on, and while we waited for it to warm up, I pushed him against the wall, dragging my teeth across his skin, making him feel the danger of being with me. _Don't forget I'm deadly_, it said. He grabbed my ass cheeks and pulled me up against him, rubbing together, getting each other on our stomachs. The steam started to cling to his hair, so we entered the hot spray, condom in Shizuo's hand. He turned me around and pushed my face against the hard tile. "Don't move."

He traced the lines of muscles on my back, and I thought about how I would feel if I were him. These are the muscles of the man I've tried so many times to kill. This the body that let him escape from me, let him dodge me, was injured by me, for so many years. And now it's here, naked, and I'm touching it. I'm feeling it. I can _taste_ the skin, and it's porous, and wet, and imperfect, and human. I almost forgot it was human. He thrust up against me, dick sliding against my hole. I gave out a little moan. "Soap."

His hand went for it, and I felt him pause, so I turned around and took the condom from him, ripping open the casing and putting it on him with ease. I threw the rapper out behind the curtain, took some soap into my hands, and rubbed his cock until it was slick. Then I turned back around, putting my hands up against the cold tile and relishing the contrast between our temperatures.

His soap-lathered member pushed up against me, and my own gave a little jump. When he entered me I moaned. It had been a long time since I had had sex, and this was a joining much anticipated, and to be relished. I wouldn't hold back anything that wanted to come up. With the first stroke, I felt my knees weakening. The second had me focusing on keeping them up. He started finding a rhythm when he hit third one, and I moved my body a little bit so he would bump my prostate. When he did I gasped. He hit it again and again, with increasing speed and strength. I dug my nails into the grout between the white squares of the shower as hot veins of electricity crawled around my body, and closed my eyes to the water. I could feel my groin tightening, ready to pounce, and was just waiting for the spring to release.

"Izaya..." he grunted, hands finding my hipbones and bringing me down harder on him. The electricity was going to take me alive. Was it safe to be this turned on in the water? What if—

"Aghh...Shizu...chan..." I could feel it rising up in me, but I could feel him going even faster, even harder, his breath coming shorter. This man. I had manipulated this man into doing this to me. Into being in bed -in the shower- with me. Into being inside me, and pleasuring me, and giving me his virginity. How beautiful! How wonderful! Every stroke was his trust, his lust, my power. Trust. Trust. Trust. Trust! I could feel his pelvis striking me, pushing me, could feel his breath on my shoulder. My own broke up. "Shizu...Shizuo...Aghh...ahh...AGH...AHHH!" I came as he bit down on my shoulder, feeling nothing but pain-painted-pleasure, head falling back, mouth wide open and catching water. He thrust a few more times before matching my bark and collapsing. We lay down in the tub of the shower, him still inside me, and his arm crept up around my torso.

I considered saying it there, what I had planned to say this entire time. To tell him the inner workings of his deliberation, of his mind, explain why he had slept with me. Reveal that I had manipulated him even past what I knew he knew. Make him another one of my victims. End this lull of loathing. Make him hate me forever. Make it so I could feel this intensity forever. But my words got stuck in my throat, so instead I did something even crueler: I didn't.


	6. ENTRY 6

ENTRY SIX

The sexual encounter brought back the intensity to our relationship. When we fought, we fought hard. We fought to hurt each other, and with the determination of two people trying to kill each other. But before, where there had been the hatred-tainted electricity between us, it was now pure and amplified. When we fought there was only us, and we became so close physically and intuitively that we knew how the other one was going to react before they did, but knew this without thinking it. Our fights weren't fights anymore, they were dances. Passionate, strong, consuming. Like our sex. And I could feel myself getting pulled into that; getting pulled into the vacuum our relationship was creating. I loved being around him. I couldn't bring myself to feel disgust and hatred for him when I was around him, only when I pulled back and remembered the things he did, and how he was, who he was. When around him, the emotion was just pure emotion, and it couldn't be labeled one way or the other.

And we had a lot of sex. Scream-inducing, biting, intense, orgasm-littered sex. "Scream my name, Shizuo." And he would. He did. And I wouldn't be able to stop myself from kissing him. We spent time together when we wouldn't have sex too, surprisingly. I'd pick up sushi from Simon and go over to Shizuo's, and we'd watch a movie or talk about things. If it weren't for our ultimate hatred for each other, which still very much existed, despite everything, you'd almost had been able to say that we were dating.

But even as we were able to sit there, our emotions in dynamic equilibrium, I knew that it wouldn't last long. We wouldn't be able to hide it forever, for one thing, and all it would take was the addition of another chemical to the mix for everything to go haywire again. That happened when the Slasher case was introduced. Somehow he knew that I was involved, and I could tell he did. I can't stand how smart he can be, even though he's such an idiot. Our balance was about to turn ugly. I couldn't think of a way to pull this off with any kind of poetry. I knew that I had dragged it on for much too long.

This should have been a month or two of play. This should have been the indulgence of a whim. This should have been a way to have manipulative sex—the combination of two of my favorite things. This should have been a way to get into Shizuo's head and make him angrier than I'd been able to before. Instead it was a habit, and it was messy, and a disaster, and I had let it happen-had watched it happen. I had seen the perfect time to tell him, when we were lying on the floor of the tub together, and I had let it go. Out of cruelty? That was what I told myself. It had been a lapse of judgment. Detached from the rest of humanity, I was given here a chance to connect with someone on a level where I could be myself. I didn't have to change myself or put on a persona to be accepted by him. All I had to do was accept him myself and make him feel wanted, and he was mine. But when I accepted him despite my hatred of him, and used him to express my love for humanity, I had tricked myself into having an experience that was more human than I'd had since I was little. I had pushed away the thoughts of how this was going downhill, trusting my ability to improvise to get me out of any trouble it might have ended up in. I never wanted it to stop, and that was stupid. When I realized I wanted to have this kind of relationship with Shizuo for as long as we could make it last, I was forced to see the situation I had put myself into. I was using him to feel human.

This wasn't supposed to happen! It was better to watch this happening to someone else than to have to deal with it myself. I knew how I should deal with it. I laughed at all the others in my situation who had dealt with it by holding on, praying to their God, and clinging until they were thrown away. I refused, to let that happen to me. That kind of behavior was disgusting. How could I continue my current lifestyle if I couldn't prove to myself now that I was above the behavior I predicted and laughed at?

So I would end it now.

I could see flashes of how I would do it: with beauty, with romance, the fatal, oh so dramatic last beautiful night before the dawn of reality. But figuring in his suspicions of me being involved in the Slasher case would make it so much more difficult. If I did it now, he would realize that I was only pulling away because he was catching on to me. To allay his suspicions, I would have to get even closer to him. Leave him after it was over. But I thought long and hard about this. Convincing him we were getting closer while keeping myself emotionally distant would be difficult now that we had such a feel for each other. There was an incident recently where he commented on a changed attitude of mine after a bad day at work, and I would have put money down on its being completely concealed.

I interlaced my fingers, putting my elbows down on my desk and biting my knuckle, telling myself that I was trying to convince myself that this was going to be fun.

Instead, I was trying to ignore how painfully my heart was beating.


	7. ENTRY 7

ENTRY SEVEN

After a day of information gathering and trying not to think about distracting things, sometimes there's nothing better than going to a bar and having a few cups of sake. It's not something that I indulge myself in very often, because of my post-drinking vulnerability, but it's something relaxing that I felt I deserved right now.

The sake burnt by tongue and throat as it slid down, and it felt good. I could feel my head get fuzzy, and I sat there with my eyes closed and ears open, taking in the conversations of those around me.

"Izaya."

I turned, pausing on the white pavement of the sidewalk as I walked home. "Hm?"

He jogged up next to me. "You're in Ikebukuro," he noted jokingly. "And so late. Aren't you scared a big bully's going to come beat you up?"

"I was looking for one in particular, actually," I improvised. "You were so angry when you approached me about being involved in the Slasher incidents. You don't think I'd really do that kind of thing, do you?"

"Of course you would. They singled ME out. Every time something bad happens, you're behind it. Especially if it has to do with me."

"Oh, well...singling you out actually might have been partially my fault. An investigator for a magazine looking for the strongest person in Ikebukuro. I told them that you were the best in a fistfight."

He exhaled. "Yeah, but most people know that. You have more to do with this Izaya." He stopped, grabbing me by my shoulder.

"You seem so sure," I countered. "Don't you think you know me better by now? You're around me so often, I'm sure I would have let something slip already." I couldn't bring myself to smile. That should have been my first clue to leave.

He stared at me.

"Izaya, I know you have something to do with this _because_ I know you. You've let it slip to other people too; they just couldn't put it together."

I laughed. "I'm sure someone would have if it was that obvious. Don't flatter yourself."

Shizuo shook his head. "No, they wouldn't have." He repositioned his toothpick in his mouth and kept walking. "You're an asshole, you know. A complete and total asshole."

I followed. "And you're an idiot who lets his emotions get in the way. You don't use your brains and it's disgusting," I flung back casually. We'd been over how much we hate each other before. It was nice after-sex conversation. "It doesn't change anything, ultimately. I'm too detached and you're too attached to being human. It's a nice balance."

He cracked his neck absent-mindedly. "Yeah, I guess so." The atmosphere of our conversation was such that it felt like our words were hanging out in front of us on strings, like some puppeteer was dragging them from our mouths, and for once the puppeteer wasn't me. I felt like I needed to say something, but for once wasn't quite sure what to say. I needed to think about this more, and I wasn't in the proper space of mind to do it while maintaining a conversation with him. "Well! It was nice talking to you, then." I turned to run, but got jarred when Shizuo grabbed my wrist.

"You don't get to leave."

I pulled away and smiled.

"Since when have you had any say in what I do?"

He ran forward and grabbed my wrist again. "I don't trust you, Izaya. I don't trust you at all."

I glanced up and down the street, and then looked at him. He acquiesced and took us into a nearby alley. An alley. That should have been a hint to do everything I possibly could to get out of there. "Was I supposed to think that you trusted me? I don't trust you either. Our relationship is about sex, isn't it?"

"No it's not. You know it's not."

He was supposed to think it was about sex. About sex and a little bit of friendship. I didn't like this conversation. I was being forced to talk—actually talk. Not pre-scripted, manipulative exchanging of lies. I didn't like it. I did _not_ like it. "Let me go." I didn't mean to say it out loud. The alcohol. This was the alcohol's fault. I shouldn't have had it. It was weak of me. I'd been so weak lately. What was wrong? This wasn't like me. I couldn't do this. This would ruin my reputation. No one would be intimidated by me again. I wouldn't feel intimidating again. My confidence would be gone if I broke down now. I took deep breaths, trying to hold myself together.

Shizuo took the hand that wasn't holding mine and pushed my face up, wouldn't let me look away. He stared right into my eyes and held my gaze. "You wanted this relationship to be another one of your manipulative schemes. A way to fuck me and my head at the same time. But you weren't as careful as you usually are. You underestimated me, flea."

So this was when he turned my tactics against me, right? What he tried to do in the alley. When he realized it didn't work he had really thought about the situation, and he had somewhere along the line realized what was going on. This was where he hurt me. My heart started aching.

"Luckily for you, I don't hate you and your horrible personality." He tentatively let go of me, and I didn't move, so he lit up a cigarette. "I should. I used to. But somewhere along the line it stopped bugging me. Don't ask me why, I dunno and I don't really care. What I know is that it did, and I kinda like what we have going. And I think you like it too."

But I hate that I like it, so it cancels out. Right? I avoided his eyesight, sighing harshly and starting to walk away, putting my hands in my pockets. I would have to prepare for this conversation. Goodbye, Shizu-chan. He didn't stop me this time, but I could feel him staring at me as I walked away, and I could imagine him leaning against the brick wall in his bartender's outfit, looking disappointed at my silence. Right then, I couldn't even bring myself to feel defeated.


	8. ENTRY 8

ENTRY EIGHT

I was embarrassed at how pathetic I had acted. I swore off sake unless there was no chance of running into Shizuo. I ordered Namie out on some meaningless errand as usual, and sat down in my chair. I let my head fall back and stared at the ceiling. Time to be honest with myself.

I got myself into this mess partially on purpose.

There's a part of me that likes it.

There's a bigger part of me that wants to give in.

That part is going to get me hurt.

There's a part of me that doesn't care.

There's a part of me that…I almost stopped myself mid-thought, but I pushed myself into it.

There's a part of me that loves Heiwajima Shizuo.

To fix it I have to get to the root of the problem. When did it start? It didn't, I realized. My hatred for him had been so strong that it had been the same thing as love. At that level of intense emotion, how could anyone, even me, tell them apart?

People say that you are only bothered by things in someone else when you have the same trait in yourself.

That's not always true.

Sometimes you're bothered by things in someone else because you _don't_ have it, and there's a part of you that wants it. It's amazing how many things in the human mind are motivated by jealousy.

I'm jealous of Shizuo's comfort with being so emotional. I repeated it to myself several times.

I'm detached. I don't feel human. Being so close to someone who's so emotional makes me feel human. I love humans. I want to be one. I don't feel human. Shizuo makes me feel human. I don't feel human. Shizuo makes me feel human.

I love him. I love him and it's going to hurt me.

Namie came back then, and I didn't have time to rearrange my face to look less distressed. She eyed me wearily. "Izaya-san? What is it?"

I'd make her doubt her eyes. I quickly jumped up, giant smile on my face, black shirt ruffling a little bit as I walked over to her, giggling at her silliness and taking my coffee. "I was just thinking about how good it feels to play God. You know how I like to think about that." I spun around, going over to my new game board and moving pieces around in a random way that I hoped made me look more devious than I felt. "Thank you for the coffee, Namie-chan."

She didn't look convinced, but didn't say anything for a minute. Then she walked over to me. "Is this about Shizuo?"

Goddamn it. Did everybody else know too? Had she told? No. That was paranoia. Of course she'd notice something. She was around here all time, and she's smart enough to know better than to tell. But I didn't like her, and definitely didn't trust her. No way would I open up to her. I felt no desire to do so. "Of course not," I laughed. "Why would I be worried about him?" I looked pensive. "Except for how he thinks I'm the Slasher. Which is silly because Anri is the Slasher, and ironic because he knows her. Isn't it funny?" I shifted the pieces on the board again. "All I have to do is tighten his strings and I'll get him dancing to my tune again."

"Whatever you say, Izaya-san." She went over to my computer and started typing up some of the tips we had received this week.

My eyebrows frowned. She hadn't changed accounts. She knew about the pedal that hid my screen. She had unrestricted access to my files because she was my secretary. She wouldn't have...

I looked at her, examining her face. "Do you ever look at my files, Namie-san?"

Her face jumped. "No, of course not." Eyebrows had gone up, lips had twitched. Signs of surprise and guilt. Oh no. I stood up.

"You know better than that, right?"

Eyes shifting, she was trying very hard to keep her face still. "Of course." Her voice shook a little.

"Okay, good. I'm glad. Because if you had looked at my personal files, you know what would happen to you, don't you?"

"I try not to think about that, Izaya-san. I just focus on my job and on my brother. I try not to worry about much else. Trying to live a life of simplicity."

"Of course. You would. Well I just wanted to check," I said, changing my voice to a happier, less ominous tone. "I'm going to go get some sushi. Want me to bring you any?"

"No, I'm fine. Thank you."

I nodded and went outside. I closed the door quietly and then paused, putting my ear against the door. "Shit..." I heard. Then she picked up the phone and called Seiji, asking him if he wanted to go on a trip. I didn't bother listening to the rest of the conversation. I left and headed straight for Heiwajima's house. I did so out of habit, but at least I was conscious of it. I thought about what I was going to say to him. 'It's not working, Shizuo. You obviously think there's more to this relationship than there is.' I wouldn't say much more than that, I thought, scratching the back of my neck where the fuzz of my jacket was bothering me. That would be the compromise I made with my feelings for him. I'd let the love fade back into hate then. Maybe I'd share a modified version of my actual predicament with my next victim, so I would have someone to talk to that I know would never tell anyone. Like I'd said before, stains don't talk.

I reached Shizuo's house and knocked on the door. He opened it and let me in without a word, sitting down on the couch. Apparently I got to start the talking.

"You caught me with my pants down," I began. "And not in the good way. I had been drinking."

"Why were you drinking? Worrying about our relationship?" he snapped.

Someone was sassy today. "Shizu-chan, am I not allowed to drink just for fun?"

"Cut the crap 'zaya. Stop with that happy bullshit. We both know you're thinking stuff. Why don't you be honest about your emotions for once in your life?"

A challenge. I narrowed my eyes. Fine. He wants me to be honest? Let's see how long he wants to stay together with me after I tell him what I really think. "Fine. I was thinking about us. I was thinking about how I was using you."

"Go on." He bit down hard on his toothpick.

"What else is there? I can go into detail if you want…"

"Plenty. I'm sure. How were you using me?"  
"Am. How _am_ I using you. You think I'm done using you? I like using you. You make it fun. I like making you angry," I hissed. "It entertains me more than other peoples' anger. It's why I'll never let you go. It's why I'll keep following you until the day I kill you."

"That's where you're wrong," he said. "On two counts. First, _I'm_ the one who's going to kill _you_. Second, you like using me because you enjoy being around me. I haven't figured out why yet, but you like me more when I'm emotional. You say you hate how emotional I am, but I think you love it."

"Not even close." Here was the time to do it. I walked in front of where he was sitting and stared at him. "Shizu-chan, you obviously think our relationship is something more than what it is. I don't like it and I don't like you. We're done."

"We're never going to be done. You know what I think?"

"What do you think?"

"I think you love me."

I stopped. "No I don't."

"Yes you do." He kissed me, and I melted immediately. He pulled away and I followed for just a second before catching myself. Dammit. "You love me. You know I love you. What's the problem here? Is it the emotion thing again?"

I couldn't hide it. I couldn't hide things from him. I hated this! I got up to leave again.

"Stop running away." He picked me up and threw me back onto his couch.

"You know, the last time I was lying on your-"

He punched me. "Don't treat me like a chick. I won't have sex with you and make our problems go away."

I sneered, holding my bruised cheek. He punched me again. "Admit it. Admit it right now."

"You can't make me lie."

"I'm not trying to." He took off my pants and started pumping me. I tried to stop him, in any mood but the mood for sex, but he stopped me, pinned my hands down and kept going. "Admit it."

"No."

His fingers slid to all the right places, going the right speed, delving in the right crevices behind my balls, following the perfect rhythm. "Admit it."

"Nn...No." I was angry. I had never been this angry before. I would never admit it. Never. Never to him. Never to this man I hated. Never to this man I loved.

He pumped faster. "Admit it now."

"NO."

I was excruciatingly close. One more and I...He stopped. "Admit it."

I bucked up. "No. No!"

"Now."

"Shizuo."

"Yes?"

I stared at him. "Never."

He smiled. "You realize what you're feeling right now?"

I groaned. "Frustrated? Angry?"

He lent down next to my ear. "Human."

My eyes widened. "What did you say?"

"You feel human. You feel human because you're with me and you love it. You feel vulnerable. I know. I read it."

I froze.

"I read how much you love me."

No.

"I read it on your computer."

I couldn't move. The document that I kept was an experiment for me. To try to figure out my _own_ mind. THIS document. I am more honest here than I am at any other time. If he saw it…

"I came to see you and Namie was on your computer. She didn't notice me. I walked over and she was reading your file. Shizuo dot docx. She saw me and I told her I wouldn't tell you if she let me read it. I read the whole thing, Izaya. All six entries."

I was so stupid. I was so stupid. Making this kind of a mistake wasn't like me. Where did I go wrong? The security, I guess. (This is now under lock and key on a flashdrive I keep on my person. In case you were wondering.)

"It gave me a look into your mind. More than anyone else has ever gotten. And you know what I did after that?"

Hatched this plan. Tricked me. Manipulated me.

"Nothing. I wasn't surprised, Izaya. I hadn't been able to figure it out myself, but that doesn't mean it didn't make sense to me. Stuff you did, how did you put it, started to fit together like…how'd you put it? Cardboard puzzle pieces."

I still couldn't move. He pulled my boxers back up, but I finished kicking my pants off and sat up.

"You want to know what happened then, Izaya?"

I was starting to get back into my right frame of mind again.

"I realized that I was in love with you anyway."

I looked at him. His blonde hair, his intense eyes, not hidden behind glasses today. His ridiculous bartender suit with its sexy tie. His pale skin. I looked at him. He knew and he says he still loves me? It was a trick. It had to be a trick.

"And I know you're paranoid. Hell," he chuckled, "I bet you think I'm lying. I'm just trying to 'turn your...' what did you say? I can't remember now. Uh..." he scratched his head.

"Methods," I reminded him.

"...against you," he finished.

"You're right, I do." Was I going to have to kill him? I didn't want to. My heart leaped to my mouth. This might be too dangerous. And could I even kill him? No, yes, of course I could.

"But I want you to think about something, Izaya." He grabbed my neck and brought our faces together. "You've never been as vulnerable as you are right now. If I wanted to hurt you, why wouldn't I do it now? I don't have your manipulation knowledge. I wouldn't take the chance of waiting."

No, he wouldn't. He would do it now. He wasn't the type to scheme. I wasn't even sure he knew how. I wasn't even sure he knew enough about psychology to hurt me past what he had just done. He probably didn't even know how much I was hurting right now. "So where does that leave us?"

He seemed happy I finally said something that contributed to the conversation. "It leaves us in an actual relationship, Izaya. Not one we have to tell people about, but one that's legitimate. And that means you stop lying to me."

"Did it hurt you to read it?"

He stared at me, trying to figure out if I was leading into a tirade that ended in him being hurt. I wasn't. "A little," he answered honestly. "I only read it a few weeks ago."

"There's another way this could go too, you know," I told him. "This doesn't have to end with our being in an 'actual relationship.'"

He shook his head. "Yes it does, Izaya. You might know how other people's brains work, and how they process things, and what drives them to decisions, but you don't understand your own emotions and how powerful they can be. I bet you feel so inhuman because you think you're smarter than all of us— above all of us because we're driven by our emotions. You don't understand how we can be so gullible and stupid. And now you're acting gullible and stupid, because you're ignoring how powerful your emotions are. You love me, so you're not going to be able to leave me." He seemed content with himself. "I know it's true."

"Don't underestimate me. I was about to leave you today."

A strange look of 'oh right' came on his face, and I couldn't help but laugh at him. Some of the things that used to drive me crazy about him now just amused me, and I would almost call them cute. He smirked when he saw my smile, and for some reason that made me smile back.

He made me happy. I liked being around him, and I would miss touching him. And I needed to maintain his loyalty to me. Who knows what stuff he learned by reading this document?

Oh, well I guess you do.

"Okay, Shizu-chan. I think you're funny, and you're good in bed. I make no promises," I raised my right hand as if I was taking an oath, "as to my deceitful behavior, but we can try."


	9. FINAL ENTRY

ENTRY NINE: The Final Analysis

I bet you read my last entry and thought "Wow. That was convenient. What the hell got into Orihara Izaya? All of a sudden changing his mind like that, after being so sure that he was going to break up with Shizuo…It seemed kind of out of character for him…I don't know…" You should be glad you have me to explain it to you. I almost didn't, because I think it'd be pretty funny to let you guys down at the last part like that. But I decided to be nice.

There was a lot going on in my head right before I said yes, and I didn't write any of it down for you. So here it is:

Call me an existentialist, call me a pessimist, call me a romantic, call me a sadist, call me insane, but don't call me a fool. I'm smart enough to realize that I'll probably die before this whole mess with Celty and the love trio is over. I'm also smart enough to realize that life rarely looks favorably on people like me. Humans with God complexes. We always meet a gritty fate. But how does that tie in to me and Shizuo? Well…the most common mistake of someone with a God Complex is the thought that they don't need anyone. They all start out knowing they're fallible, but eventually they get so caught up in playing God that they forget they're really human—that they're _not _really God.

I almost got caught in that, and Shizuo saved me. Being with him gave me the distance from myself I needed to see things I had missed behind my walls of manipulation. There's some love and gratitude that happens because of that, I think. The one person that has ever gotten through my walls. He's special just because of that. It is no longer an option to not have this man in my life. He's not scared to keep me in check, and people like me—special, wonderful, devilishly sexy people in love with humans—need that kind of a person. My strange hybrid race can't survive without them.

So yeah. I said yes. But I didn't say yes to a committed, long term relationship. I didn't agree to marry the guy. I agreed to keep fucking him, hang out, and every once in awhile have a deep-kind of a conversation. Really not that big of a deal, when you think about it.

And I could go from here, and tell you how our relationship developed in horrible psychological rants, into what we have now. But it would repetitive, to be honest. And boring. And I was too busy living it to write it out as it was happening anyway, so I've forgotten a good deal of it already.

But that this slowly morphed into a diary more than an experiment tells me something about my interactions with Shizuo, actually. There's something about that boy that makes me stop being as introspective as I usually am. He makes me live in the now, and not step back and think about what I'm experiencing while I'm experiencing it. It makes me feel more human than I usually do, and it's a nice break from the rest of my life (however much I love it—because I do).

What we have now is a strange kind of a relationship, but one that works well for both of us. We have that blissful relationship that neither one of us really feels the need to define past acknowledging its existence. And that's good, because it's something I can tolerate. And I need to be able to tolerate it, because I realized that if I die without immersing myself in the human experience at least once, there's a chance that I will have missed out on something. Something decently important. Maybe even something that I can learn to enjoy.

So I decided to give _him_ a chance.

As an afterthought, if you believe in those, it probably didn't hurt that Shizuo's really good in bed.

_**Really **_good in bed.


End file.
